


Stay With Me

by girl_next_door_writes



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-17
Updated: 2020-02-17
Packaged: 2021-02-26 12:30:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22771474
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/girl_next_door_writes/pseuds/girl_next_door_writes
Summary: Comfort comes in many forms and, although wracked with guilt, Clint finds something that will quieten his mind for a while.
Relationships: Clint Barton & Reader
Kudos: 4





	Stay With Me

The room was eerily quiet. The only sound he could make out was the soft breathing of his companion lay beside him and his heart clenched again. The moonlight fell in shards across the bed, the harsh lines caused by the slatted blind in sharp contrast to the soft, delicate light which gently illuminated what he assumed was your sleeping frame. Propped against his pillow, his eyes roamed over the room in the darkness, the discarded clothes trailing toward the bed, the empty glasses and empty bottle on the nightstand, the warm, soft body of his friend beside him. All these things evidence of tonight’s events, a reminder of his own actions. The memory of skin against skin, soft moans, desperate kisses, clawing at clothes, the taste of alcohol, flooded his mind.

This was a mistake. He had lost everything, everything but you, and now he had made damned certain you would leave him too. After this, after what you had done together here in his bed, your friendship was over, tainted. How could you ever look at him the same way after this? Would you expect more? Would you wish it never happened? 

He’d never been good at these one-night stand things. Casual sexual encounters were not really in his wheelhouse. Clint Barton was a serial monogamist and sex was more than just a physical release, an act of fun to pass the time. It meant something to him and in this case, with you, it meant self-destruction.

This could never happen, should never have happened. He was a married man for fucks sake. True, the snap had taken his family but he was still married, still felt very much married and the guilt of sleeping with someone other than his wife knotted in his stomach. He needed desperately to believe that, one day, he could get them all back and if he did how was he going to explain this? How could he tell you that what he felt for you couldn’t compare to the love he felt for his family, that this was just a blip. But what if they never came back? What if this was all he had and you were more than he could hope for?

Whenever he felt this way, you had been the one to provide comfort and a supportive shoulder to lean on, but who could he talk to about this? Telling you this was a mistake, would hurt you so much and that realization joined the steadily growing ball of guilt eating away at him in the early hours of another morning where he struggled to find sleep, to find peace. 

You shifted beside him and he held his breath, unsure if he wanted you to be awake or not. His mind was a nest of snakes, each thought sliding over the next in a cacophony of despair and loneliness. He was a selfish asshole, he knew that much. This wasn’t love between you, and you deserved love, but he wanted you to stay, needed you to stay. When he was in your arms, lost in the moments with you, he felt like himself again and not a broken, hollowed husk of a man.

The digital clock display flickered as the minute ticked past, it’s blue light creating an unearthly glow, reflecting off the whiskey glass, illuminating the drops of amber liquid undrained. He’d begun to think of himself like that, an empty receptacle with just the remnants of the memory of a drink, of a life. Somehow it was these small hours of the mornings that were the worst, the hours where his brain wouldn’t shut off even though his body cried out for rest. He needed to get a grip, to gain some self-control, but he knew just thinking that, knowing that, it didn’t really work. The only thing that worked for him was being with you and now…

Closing his eyes, he let out a deep breath and listened to the light patter of fresh rain against the windowpane. The drops creating patterns in the moonlight that peeked from behind the clouds and fell onto the floor, no longer reaching the bed. The rhythmic sound was soothing, as if the cool water was washing away the past and feeding the possibility of the new.

You shifted again, turning onto your side to face him, your hand seeking out his. The warmth of your skin as your palms pressed together, as you interlaced your fingers and ran your thumb over his, quietened his mind. Such a simple gesture but it was as if you were the link to reality, pulling him back from the abyss. Turning his head, he felt a smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he saw how at peace you looked. This wasn’t love, you both knew that. This was grief and loneliness and desperately clinging onto anything that made the pain recede even just a little bit. This was two broken souls finding comfort in each other as the chaos of the world swirled around them. The guilt and the ache of loss in his heart seemed to fade as he looked at you and he found his eyelids growing heavy and closing of their own accord. 

Turning to lay on his side facing you, he held your hand a little tighter, just hoping that even after tonight you might stay.


End file.
